We’re assuming they have changed their name to protect their identity as an international super spy. 

Special agent Tim was concerned about garage sales and folks careening in early, looting the place of all the good stuff, and leaving honest folks who turn up on the day with, what we’re guessing, is slim pickings of second-hand back scratchers and warped vinyls. 

Admittedly, On the Pulse is a complete numbskull when it comes to garage sales, but we think Tim may have a point. It’s like seeing an advertisement for a really nice car, pedalling (because we need a car) all the way out to the car lot, with driving gloves in our pocket, in the searing heat, only to discover the car was sold to someone three days before. It’s inconvenient, and a broken VCR really isn’t a decent consolation prize. On the other hand, we can’t help but think the premise of a garage sale is pretty straight forward and universally accepted. We thought the idea, for vendors at least, was to fence the bootleg DVDs and old white goods as fast as humanly possible. To that end, what’s a day or two among friends? Tim suggested the Times’ classifieds department stop publishing the specifics of garage sales - like the address - to try to even the playing field, but we’re a little sceptical that would be entirely practical. Still, never let it be said Pulse was unwilling to try new things. To test the new plan: On the Pulse may or may not be holding a garage sale sometime in the future at an address of undisclosed location to sell an unspecific number goods of varying quality. All welcome.

Surprising as it may sound, On the Pulse eats red meat and suspects paleos have a plan. But even Pulse, wiping away barbecue sauce with a rib, has been left a little perplexed. Is it just us, or are we hearing an awful lot about lamb of late? Now, lamb’s fine—juicy, flavourful, delightful with rosemary—but it seems the delectable Aussie staple has been getting a decent cut of media time lately.

In the latest incarnation, a couple of Aussie “lambassadors” are teaming up to bring five internationally-distant Aussies home for an Australia Day lamb chop barbecue. Bonzer, thinks Pulse, but where is all this advertising money coming from? Could it be that somewhere, out there in the scrub, there’s an obscure and reclusive millionaire quietly turning the wheels? 

Pulse is running a book on who the mystery money bags could be: John Williamson at 10:1 odds; Jacqui Lambie on the outside at 50:1; Richie Benaud, by way of a truly Aussie clause in his will, even money.

Everybody’s got game now. It seems to be the latest thing. From what Pulse can understand, having game in anything pretty well means you’re a bit alright. ‘Twas a time when we used to say on-ya, or bloody-oath—but that was back when people used to say things like “‘twas”, internet was dial-up, and the hash tag was just that weird button on your house phone that no-one ever used. Now it’s all about having game, and what’s the best game to have? Selfie game.

Selfie game brings all the other games together—the Cadillac of game. 

To capitalise on our front-camera ready stunners, Tourism Inverell has launched a new plan to promote our good-lookin’ town. Send in a selfie (details on the Facebook) and you could make it to a new ad to be filmed in February.

Time to bust out the selfie stick, Cara Delavigne eyebrows and pouts to out-pout Angelina Jolie—we’re looking to the new face of Inverell.